Uh, Something Has Gone Terribly Wrong or Right
by GeekTard
Summary: What happens when Edward Cullen wakes up... as a human? Everyone is surprised, and no one knows how it happened. Find out what happens in this weird little tale.


Hmm... What is this?

I was in some strange location; there wasn't actually a background of any sort, but rather some bizarre sheet of nothing surrounding me. It, however, did not concern me, not in the least. I'm not sure what did, though. My mind was basically a blank, though there were a few questions popping around, here and there. Was there a purpose for my being there? Where was "there", anyways? Where was I? What was I? No, I wasn't even sure of _that_. I might have been a ghost. Did I die in Italy? No, I assured myself. I hope not.

My idle thoughts were interrupted by... Well, I'm not actually sure what by. I just felt another presence there, something – or, some_one_ – right behind me. In an odd, slow motion sort of fashion, I turned around. There was a figure there, in the distance, of what looked like a woman. She walked confidently, almost like a strut, until she was uncomfortably close to me. She was not anyone I recognized, and that really is saying something. She had sleek, auburn-red hair that curled a bit at the ends and her expression was unreadable, even when I stared into her hazelnut colored eyes, trying to find a flicker of comprehensible emotion, yet I found none of that sort.

She orbited around me, apparently studying me. Before she or I could say anything, I woke up.

Wait, how in the world do I "wake up"?

"Waking up" is the term for a being that has once again gained consciousness after slumbering for a period of time, peacefully or otherwise. "Waking up" requires sleep. I don't sleep. I haven't slept in years. I never found the need to; never tiring was a perk of the job.

I sighed. I _wish_ it was a job. No, it's worse. It's a lifestyle. It is one that I cannot change, no matter how hard I try. Nothing I ever do can reverse the effects of Carlisle's noble, yet regrettable actions. If this was a job, then I'd much rather be flipping burgers and a lame fast food joint, such as McDonald's, or maybe a camp counselor at a summer sleep-away camp for unruly and misbehaved children. That would probably be more fun than what I am now: a creature of the damned.

Sitting up straighter in the old, wooden rocking chair I had been rather comfortably sitting in, I took in the scene around me: as I glanced before me, early sunlight seeped through the partially closed sheer curtains, spreading dim light throughout the semi-dark room. On my right was a small desk with an old-looking computer sitting on it, a thin layer of dust covering the top, sides, and back. Also on the desk was a small assortment of uncapped pens and dull pencils, on top of a messy stack of papers that appeared to be hastily written essays on poetry. Nearby was a dog-eared, worn-looking copy of Wuthering Heights. Doesn't she ever get sick of reading that book? The clock on the wall over the closed door on my left that led to the hallway read 6:23. Adjacent to the door was a small bed.

In that bed was a girl. Her mahogany brown hair was tangled and spread all over her pillow, looking not unlike seaweed, swaying wildly in deep waters. Though most of her body was hidden under the pale violet covers, I could see a soft-looking, ivory-colored hand peeking out from said covers, gripping the loose case of her pillow rather tightly. I noticed that she was kicking slightly under the blanket, stirring and fidgeting as though she were briskly jogging. Her face was one of worry, or perhaps confusion, and her moans and groans were constant and strong; were I not looking right at her, I probably would have thought she was in pain.

Was she? Was she maybe suffering through a bad dream, a nightmare? All the clues proved me correct. Should I wake her up? I thought of a discussion we shared just the previous night:

_ "So," she mused quietly, "you like watching me sleep?"_

_ "I enjoy it, actually," I replied casually, absently brushing a stray hair away from her face. (A face that beautiful should never be hidden, ever). _

_ Immediately, I wished I hadn't just said that. I believe that the idea of having someone watch you in your sleep – much less enjoy it – was what the average human found bizarre. I doubt she would be any different. Of course, I doubted a lot of things about her... I could, yet again be wrong..._

_ She merely chuckled. That was unexpected. Well, actually, it's hard to expect things with Bella. Her heart beat faster, and blood flowed into her cheeks, producing a rosy blush. My already-burning throat burned hotter, but I ignored it. She looked around the small bedroom we were sitting in _– which was, in fact, the exact same room I was in now – _her eyes straying on a small but colorful card that lay open on her desk. Finally, she spoke._

_ "What do I look like? When I'm asleep?" she asked timidly. I laughed quietly. What sort of question was that, my love? Are you going to start being self conscious about what you look like when nobody sees you? Well, nobody except me, of course._

_ "Why, you look just as you do when you're awake, love, with the exception that your eyes are closed. Why?" I asked wryly, humoring her. Or as much as I _could_ humor her when I really did want to know._

_ "Yeah, but... H-how do I look when – oh, I don't know – when I'm having a nightmare, for example?" She really seemed serious about this, like she really needed my reply. Why must she always be so staid, so annoyingly curious on beautiful days like today? Tsk, tsk, tsk; classic Bella._

_ "Love, you know perfectly well that I have absolutely no idea when you are having a nightmare and when you are not." _

_ Bella, annoyed that I didn't answer her question exactly the way she wanted me to, glared at me. Oh, her "angry" face is so adorable! However, as much as I enjoyed her little kitten fury, I continued. "But I do notice time to time that you look more distressed, and you fidget a lot. Sometimes, it seems as if you are so troubled you don't even talk in your sleep." _

_ She swatted me for bringing up her sleep-talking problem, which she hated dearly. Although I do love teasing her about that (and many other subjects), I was serious now. It continually pained me to see her in such a state, yet I never brought up the courage to just go and wake her up._

_ She seemed thoughtful. Oh, it is times like these I curse the fact that I cannot read her mind. What was she thinking? She looked down into her lap, where her hand was tightly incased in mine. "Well, can you maybe, I don't know, wake me up then? Like, when I'm having one of those nightmares? I would greatly appreciate it afterwards, trust me."_

_ I wondered what in those dreams was so terrible that she had never even told me about them, but I nodded anyways. "Yes, my love. Of course."_

Well, now seemed like one of those times.

I silently got up from the chair and crept over to the bed. I laid my hand on her own, the one seizing her pillowcase. She suddenly felt a lot cooler than she usually does to me; I feared that she was so extremely cold that her temperature nearly matched my own. Yet, I highly doubted that. Even I could feel the slight humidity of what was probably the result of turning up the heater "just a bit" on the chilly night that was last night.

Wait, did I just say I "felt the heat"? Since when do I "feel the heat"? I haven't "felt the heat" in nearly ninety years. Ugh, I'm probably just hallucinating. Although, I don't recall "hallucinating" in that specific time period either...

I moved my hand to her shoulder, which was trembling slightly. In the dark, I didn't notice that my hand was actually a couple shades more saturated than it normally would have been. I didn't even notice that I didn't notice. In fact, I didn't notice a lot of things that I usually do, but that, like in my first hallucination, was not of my concern.

No, my current wave of unease was caused by the apparently pain-suffering girl on the bed. Unable to take it anymore, I shook her shoulder softly. When she didn't react, I dug my hand in just a bit deeper, shaking her with just a bit more force, with the terrible feeling that I would regret doing so later. (But, luckily, I didn't.)

Instead, I gave a sigh of relief and smiled.

Her body slowed. Her groans quieted. Her eyes cracked open a quarter inch, then half, and then finally they were completely open. She looked up with her brown eyes, up at me, and blinked. Now she was completely silent and still. Eyes still on me, she moved herself into a sitting position on the bed. Her expression looked sort of... upset. Or maybe, a little shocked. She stayed quiet for an unusually long time, staring at me. She seemed to be looking right at my eyes. Was she trying her luck at a staring contest? Funny little girl, that Bella can be. She knows for a fact that my kind doesn't blink. Never have, at least not in the last ninety—

Wait. I... I just blinked, I felt it. I really... felt it. No, it was probably just another one of those hallucinations again. Silly me... Ah! I just did it again. Bella's eyes widened and alarm took over her face.

Instead of saying something, like I normally would have, I just stared back at her, bewildered. I obviously was imagining it all, but what was Bella staring at?

"Edward?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

She didn't reply, but continued to gaze upon my face. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply into her forehead, her lips opening a bit, leaving a small gap in which I could only see parts of her two front teeth. Her eyes narrowed, and then opened up again. Her pupils darted down to my hand, now resting on the bed, and then back up to me. Suddenly, her hand shot out and nearly struck my face, her fingers only passing about two centimeters in front of said face. And, well, I could help it. I... I blinked.

She stayed silent a bit more, then, in a low voice, asked again, "Edward?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes, love. What... What's wrong, dear?" Now I'm really starting to worry now. Is she not recognizing me? She still knows my name, so I suppose not. Is there something on my face? What could possibly put her in such awe?

She touched my cheek softly, caressed it. She added pressure, letting her fingers sink in to my skin only slightly. When she reached my chin, she squeezed a small corner of it between her fingers tightly and pulled her hand away quickly with an amused expression on her face.

"Ow!" I cried in a voice just a bit louder than a whisper. Right then, I got worried. No, not about Bella, about myself. See, I shouldn't have felt that. She shouldn't have been able to "sink her fingers in my skin", not even slightly. She shouldn't have been able to make me blink. I shouldn't have been blinking in the first place.

In a flash I sprang up from the bed and ran to the desk – well, that was what I was hoping for, anyways. As soon as I took a step, I tripped over a power cord, landing flat on my face onto the shag carpet with a thud. I pushed myself up again and proceeded to the cluttered table, where I grabbed a mirror from under another messy stack of papers, which scattered to the ground. Looking in the compact, I gasped.

This was not the face I remembered seeing just the night before. For one thing, my nose was different than what I was used to. My chin wasn't quite as pronounced as usual. My eyebrows might actually have been thicker. I practically ran to the window – almost slipping again – and yanked the curtains open. Bright sunlight leaked into the room, and I studied myself in the mirror with a clearer view.

My hair was browner than it was the night before, similar to that of a hamster. My skin – just like my unnoticed hand from before – was pinker and actually human-like, but redder around my cheeks. With my right hand – the one not holding the mirror – I pressed on my face, seeing _and_ feeling my fingers push through the soft flesh and rub my cheekbones and lower jaw. And then I saw them.

Saw what? My eyes. I had made absolutely sure that my eyes were that familiar amber-gold color last night. I had worked so hard to make sure. And now... they stood out... a brilliant... emerald... green. Green.

Okay, now I'm sure I'm hallucinating. Actually, I'm not even hallucinating. I'm just dead. Yes. The Volturi _did _kill me, back in Italy, along with Alice and Bella, and probably the rest of my family. Duh. All of this? It's Hell. Any minute now, all of my family members – well, their ghosts – are going to pop up and torture me for making them suffer a Volturi death. And the Bella right behind me is going to morph into the Devil himself and do the unimaginable. Maybe he'll take the shape of Bella's body again and make out with Emmet, or honestly enjoy a shopping trip with Alice or something else beyond belief.

While I was considering whether the Devil/Bella would first kiss Rosalie or rip off Carlisle's pants and jump out the window with them on her head, I noticed for the first time that someone was shaking my shoulder and whispering, "Edward... Edward..." It was Bella.

I turned around, yelped, jumped, and shielded my face with my arms – I bet I looked like a crazy person. She stood where she was with her arm up. Her fingers slowly clenched into a loose fist and her arm fell to her side. Her face was still confused, yet she did have a few visible traces of concern.

"Edward? A-are you okay?" she asked.

"Well, wouldn't you want to know?!" I shot back rather loudly, almost shouting. "Do you plan to torture me even more, psycho demon?! What more can you possibly – mmph!"

Bella had run over to me and clapped her hand over my mouth, using her other arm to push my body against hers. Had she been a couple ticks stronger, I probably wouldn't have escaped her hold but I did. Slightly out of balance, I stagger to the bed and fall onto it. What _is_ this torture?!

Bella came over, her face red. She looked really, really angry. Oh no, I thought, she's gonna morph now –

But she didn't. Instead, she exclaimed in a hushed sort of voice, "Edward!! _What_ were you thinking?! Do NOT shout; Charlie is still sleeping!! And do NOTstart on that crazy Devil stuff you were muttering about before, you are NOT dead, you idiot!!"

'Muttering'? Was I saying that stuff out loud? Oh well, what does it matter, if I'm dead –

"Don't even _think_ about it, Cullen! You are _not_ dead, and if you don't believe me right now then you might as well be, so just _shut up_!"

Sigh. Devil/Bella can't even do a good Bella impression. Where's the torture in –

Ah! There was a sharp, stinging burn on my whole right cheek. I still had the mirror in my hand; I glanced at it and saw a large red spot on my cheek where she had slapped me. I stared at Bella. A strange expression was on her face; it was sort of a mixture of anger, frustration, and maybe remorse. Her arm was still a bit raised.

"Do you believe me _now_, Cullen? You are _not_ dead. D-did that hurt enough to convince you?" Her voice quieted, and there was some sincere sadness added. "Edward. I didn't enjoy that. I just didn't like seeing you like that." Hmm. Coincidental much? "But I had to, Edward. And, I really need to know. Are you okay now?"

"Uh..."

She looked awkward. "Sorry, Eddie. I had to," she repeated. When I didn't answer, the craziest thing happened – She kissed me.

Hmm. I never thought about how passionate Bella can be sometimes.

She broke away, blushing, and I stared at her. She looked like an angel.

Okay, so maybe this isn't Hell. Maybe I'm not even dead.


End file.
